


We Are Alive In Death Valley

by wirewrappedlily



Series: It's Misery [3]
Category: Fringe, teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Multi, tags to update as we go lovelies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-02-19 08:22:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2381504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wirewrappedlily/pseuds/wirewrappedlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So much nudity."</p><p>Derek looked at him silently, and Stiles coloured gorgeously under his scrutinization.</p><p>"Well, you are very naked."</p><p>"Astute."</p><p>"Oh, shut up."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Off the Table

Derek was mid-shift before Stiles could take a breath, but Stiles was nothing if not quick; twisting and dragging himself out from under Derek, standing up with his gun already in his hand, leveling the muzzle at Kate's head, "Let Etta go." 

Kate smiled, eyes wild and hefting the struggling little girl higher against her. "Oh, but why would I let her go? She's the one that can heal with a touch, isn't she? Daughter of two freaks and now she's one herself." 

"Watch who you're calling a freak, you fucked up zombie bitch." Stiles growled, ignoring Derek urging him aside with his muzzle. "Etta, baby, you're gonna be fine. Close your eyes." 

"You think you can hit me before I slit her throat?" 

Stiles let a slow, dangerous smile cross his mouth, "I know I can, Katherine. Her mother was the best marksman in the Bureau until I came along; I have never missed." 

"Oh, so impressive." Kate purred, "Is this why you like him, Derek? 'Cause he's just as deadly as I am?" 

"Derek likes me because I'm not a psychopath." Stiles contradicted. Derek barked a growl, "Let her go, I'll show you just how deadly I can really be." 

"It's not you I want, cutie. You're human. A freak, but human. No, I want the big bad wolf." 

"Not happening." Stiles snapped immediately. 

Kate raised her brows, tilting her head slightly, "Oh? Derek, you gonna take that order?" 

Stiles didn't look back; didn't react, gun aimed on her. He felt and heard the wolf react, and Stiles didn't bother to wonder when Derek had started to manage the full shift. Derek shifted, sitting down from the ready-to-pounce position. Kate looked like she was about to go into shock, and Etta took her advantage the moment she felt Kate falter, kicking back with her little foot, catching Kate in her pelvis and twisting hard enough to get Kate to drop her, Etta running for Derek the moment she hit the ground as Stiles started shooting. The first five rounds tore up Kate's torso, the sixth through her forehead, the seventh through her throat, and the eighth hitting the knife out of her hand even as she launched herself forward. Etta was clambouring up onto Derek's back, hanging on tightly, "I'm not an abusive, controlling psychopath, Kate; and Derek's managed to move on from the scars you inflicted on him. Derek's my hero, Kate, and I will never back down from keeping him safe." 

There was no sound as they faced each other, Kate shaking as she kept herself standing, the bullets tinkling to the floor as she healed them out of her. "You don't know what I am...what I'm capable of--" 

"You're an abomination, an accident. Something that crawled out of Hell, only I've seen Hell, and nothing's been able to scare me since your father kidnapped and tortured me when I was seventeen. There is _nothing_ you can do to me that I won't bounce back from." 

Kate laughed slowly, her teeth elongating in her mouth as she started ambling towards him, her hands curling into talons. 

"Derek..." Stiles bit out, voice deep and resonating, sending the wolf and the little girl riding him galloping for the back door. As Derek burst out, Olivia and Lydia burst in, Bishop catching Etta off Derek's back as the firefight started tearing through the space. Derek let out a roar, launching himself back through the doors and leaping for Stiles, tackling him out of the way as the bullets tore through the air. Stiles and he landed hard, skidding across the hardwood. Derek had shifted back, his skin bare and sheened with sweat as he shook slightly, grunting as Stiles shifted, trying to shield Derek with his own body, "we gotta get out of here." 

Derek grunted in response, pulling an arm around Stiles and gripping tight enough to pick him up, scrambling to run, carry Stiles, and stay low enough to avoid catching bullets as Kate began struggling for the other door, ready to escape now. "What is she?" 

"Something different." 

"Werepanther!" Derek shouted, pulling Stiles out of the door and crashing to the ground. "Stiles?" 

"I'm okay." 

"Etta?" Derek asked, looking up from where he and Stiles had crashed to see the young face in her father's arms. 

"'M okay, too, Derek." She answered, walking over to him and hugging around his neck with one arm, "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, princess. I'm okay." Derek answered, panting. He relaxed slightly, and Stiles took the weight easily, smiling at her, upside down. 

"Bish, you and Liv should probably take my best girl and get her safe. My dad has enough firepower until we can figure out what slows down a werepanther. "Derek, you and I are going to go back to the loft. I need to make sure you're don't have so much as a hangnail." Stiles's gaze up at him was hopeful and caring; hopeful that Derek really hadn't changed his mind, and concerned that Derek actually had gotten hurt. Derek shifted, nodding to Lydia and Olivia as they circled around to Peter and Etta, getting the innocent eyes out of the room before Derek and Stiles really moved, "Come on." Stiles groaned as he helped Derek to heft himself up, Derek letting Stiles act as a crutch for him, more so that he could hold Stiles close than it was for any support. "So much nudity." 

Derek looked at him silently, and Stiles coloured gorgeously under his scrutinization. 

"Well, you are very naked." 

"Astute." 

"Oh, shut up." 

Stiles held his straight face for a moment more, before he started cracking up. Derek took a pair of sweats Stiles had stashed in his work-out bag, loose enough to fit easily. Stiles smoothed his hands over Derek's shoulders, looking him over very carefully, "Derek," he whispered, shifting closer and kissing the corner of his mouth gently. 

Derek bundled himself into the passenger's side of the Jeep, taking Stiles's hand over the console as they came out onto the main road, "How the hell can I do this, Stiles?"

Stiles squeezed his hand, "You let me help you." 

"Like I'd have a choice." Stiles grinned at that, "Stiles, we need to make sure you and your family are safe." 

"I'm going to be a target." 

"Allison's already after you..." Derek groaned, "right now, I just need you to be out of harm's way." 

Stiles snorted, "Yes, because that happens. Ever." 

Derek sighed, shaking his head, "Kate can't have you." Derek choked out, voice desperate.

Stiles reached up, running his long fingers into Derek's black hair, gripping gently, "She won't." 

Derek leaned into the touch, and as they pulled up to the parking lot in front of Derek's loft, they found themselves rushing to get out of the car, up to the heavy sliding door. Derek turned to Stiles, his eyes wild as Stiles slid the door closed behind them, his bare chest drawing Stiles in. 

Derek shuddered as Stiles's hands touched him, drawing lines over his shoulders. "We're not going to do this right now." Stiles whispered, "Not with her breathing air in this world. Take a shower with me instead." Stiles shifted closer, the heat off of his body sinking into Derek's bones, soothing him more than anything had in years. 

Derek groaned, but nodded, half-lifting Stiles and carrying him towards the bathroom blindly. 

The laughter tumbling from Stiles's lips was bright in Derek's ears, his hands running down over Derek's shoulders, his mouth open on Derek's throat, slowly sucking a mark into his skin; so slowly that Derek couldn't register a sting. 

Hot water rushed out of the shower head before long, and Stiles shuddered into Derek, breaking off from his skin to gasp into the steam. They were still stripping off their clothes as they stumbled into the spray of water, Stiles pulling Derek down, licking into his mouth and holding him tight. When he broke off, Stiles tipped back his head, offering his neck to Derek easily, moaning as Derek growled low in his chest and started marking him. "You're shaking..." 

"Stiles..." Derek choked out, and Stiles flinched, looking at him with water caught in his lashes, "this..." 

"I trust you, Derek." Stiles whispered the promise, "I would trust you with your teeth at my throat." 

Derek was shaking in earnest now, his breathing coming hard. "I--"

"I know." Stiles answered the unspoken problem, "You can, Derek. I want you to." Stiles gently led Derek's face into Stiles's neck, shuddering at the heat of his breath. "Please, Derek." 

Derek set his teeth against the pale arc of Stiles's throat, marking him with his mouth before he realized that with every moan Stiles made, his fingers made prints in his hips, his back. Stiles gasped and shivered, clinging right back, his chest heaving. Derek licked the marks slowly, humming against the throbbing bruise to make Stiles cry out. Stiles reached out to take the soap, lathering it up and rubbing hard into the taught muscles of Derek's back, massaging out the tension as best he could. 

Derek sucked Stiles's tongue into his mouth, swallowing his sounds and rubbing at his ribs, kissing him until Stiles felt like he was going to lose his knees. Derek took Stiles's weight, pressing him against the cold tiles and plundering his mouth until Stiles was shaking against him like a leaf. Derek dragged in desperate breaths, the blush on Stiles's cheeks a delicious rose, his mouth a heady raspberry. Stiles worried Derek's lower lip between his teeth, hissing lightly as Derek rubbed his hands over the pale skin of his hips and ass, kneading at him. Stiles bucked against him, trying to rub against his hip. "Derek..." 

"I want to take you apart." Derek growled. Stiles pet through Derek's hair, and Derek stopped himself from rubbing into him. He pulled back slightly, taking stock of himself with a spinning head; the anxiety that had his fingers clinging a little too hard and the pounding of his heart in his ears too rabbit-fast. "I'm sorry..." 

"It's okay...It's okay." Stiles breathed a laugh, "I've gotten control of my dick, Derek. We don't need to. Calm down. I won't make you do anything." 

Derek choked on a breath, burying his face in Stiles's collarbone, " _Thank you_." Derek whimpered, and Stiles hissed in a breath, fisting a hand in his hair. 

"I would never hurt you like that, Derek. Never." 

Pulling him tighter against his chest, Derek felt like he was about to break apart, and the only way he could hold himself together was to hold Stiles tight. "Stiles..." He groaned, lost in the rush of water and Stiles's arms. 

Stiles was slow and methodical as he washed down Derek's back more thoroughly, pressing delicate kisses to his cheeks and jaw as he did to help Derek find some ground. As the suds washed from them, Stiles pulled him in for another real kiss, chaste and yet so devastatingly intimate, so ruiningly hot, that Derek felt like he could get lost in that one kiss and stay lost for as long as Stiles was in reaching distance. 

Drying perfunctorily, they climbed into Derek's bed together, Stiles pushing and pulling at Derek until he broke and started laughing, getting Derek to laugh, too. Finally arranged to Stiles's preference, Derek settled; knowing that the door had been locked, Stiles's gun was under his pillow, and there was no force in the world that was going to take this fragile human from him.


	2. Yet

Stiles was curled up on Derek's lap, head on a book he'd been trying to read for the past four hours, and leg dangerously close to hitting Lydia in the head every time he twitched. 

Exhaustion had essentially decimated them; Etta and Derek the only two still stubborn enough to be awake, though Etta was having some serious troubles trying to keep her eyes open while her father had her trapped as his squirming, unwilling teddy bear. Eventually she'd fall asleep, Derek knew. He'd watched his own father do that with his sisters, his cousins. Derek didn't remember ever falling victim to it, though he knew he must have done. It was strange to know that some things were damn near universal. 

Olivia was sacked out against Lydia's shoulder, the two most deadly women Derek reckoned he'd ever met looking deceptively at ease considering Derek knew that both Stiles and Lydia had had a very fast, very violent reaction time were something to happen. 

There had been nothing in their search for a way to kill a werepanther. It'd only become more worrisome as they'd read about the abilities unique to the species; Kate's near-invincibility a panicked knot in the chests of everyone there but Etta, who still had faith that her Uncle Stiles and her father could battle dragons and win. Derek gently scooped an arm under Stiles's chest, shifting his leg with a deft push of his knee so that as he laid Stiles back against his chest Stiles wouldn't give a start. Snuffling and moaning low in his throat, Stiles let his head tip into the curve of Derek's neck, his lashes tickling against Derek's skin as he licked his lips and resettled. Derek smiled to himself, helpless to stop it, carefully threading his other arm under Stiles's knees, picking him up as Derek forced himself to stand on a fully asleep leg, stumbling slightly as pins and needles shot through him. 

Derek carefully carried Stiles to Derek's low bed, dislodging books as he did and laying Stiles down, pulling blankets up around him. From the night before, the scent of Stiles and Derek mixed on Derek's sheets had made him more distracted than anything else ever had. Stiles's warm, lithe body had fit so well against his the night before that Derek couldn't think of a night he'd slept better in his memory, let alone recently. Derek turned back to the others, taking out blankets and pillows he'd accumulated because it was something he'd held on to from his family; his pack. Bishop didn't stir as Derek covered him and Etta gently, carefully lifting Bishop's head and sliding a pillow under his head for him. Lydia and Olivia were a little more difficult: Derek couldn't move one without the other losing what was propping her upright. Lydia hummed herself awake when Derek gently brushed his hand over her cheek, and Olivia was easy to pick up then, Derek leading Lydia with him as he carried Olivia to the bed, laying her down as Lydia climbed over Stiles and settled in between Olivia and Stiles, going right back to sleep as if she hadn't woken at all. 

Derek went back to the books as everyone settled in around him, even Etta having fallen off in her father's arms. The steady thrum of heartbeats in his loft twinged at Derek; unused to the calm, peaceful trust that came with a family asleep around him. 

He didn't know how long he'd been bent over the books, but before long Stiles was wrapping him in his arms and legs. "Lydia kicks in her sleep." Stiles whispered, "Let's make a bed on the floor. You need sleep, too." 

Taking the book from him, Stiles kissed along his neck, reaching down to press his hands to Derek's heartbeat. Derek leaned back slightly into the embrace, letting his eyes close and only realizing then that they were aching. 

"I'd count killing yourself with exhaustion as letting her win, so come to bed with me, Derek. Let me hold you for a few hours." 

Derek nodded, "I'd like that." 

Stiles brought Derek down beside him on the makeshift bed of two blankets and only one pillow on the hard floor, relaxing into the warmth and closing his eyes. Derek knew full well that the slight stiffness Stiles woke up to in his right leg would not be helped by sleeping on the floor, but as he pulled and shifted at Stiles slightly, getting him laying more on Derek than he was against the blanket between them and the floor, he felt it'd help, at the very least. Stiles snuffled into his collar, his fingers curling on the shoulder of his tee and his body going lax against Derek's. 

Derek hadn't heard the story of what happened to Stiles's knee yet; the knot of scar tissue on the right leg only barely registered during their shower, and the slight limp Stiles had that morning put aside so that they could get to research. Derek's fingers reached down, rubbing lightly at the scarring. For as much as he'd tried to keep tabs on Stiles through Lydia and Sheriff Stilinski, he knew there was no way that even they would be able to wheedle everything from him. Derek didn't question for a second why he thought that he could, though; focusing instead on the soft symphony of heartbeats and breathing around them, feeling strangely like he was with pack.

The next morning came with he and Etta being the first to wake, Derek taking pity on her in her entrapped state and gently coaxing Bishop to let her go, carrying her into the kitchen with him just far enough to not stir the humans sprawled around his loft. "French toast or bacon and eggs?" 

"Do you have powdered sugar?" 

Honestly, Derek would not be surprised, given that the girl was in some way related to the Stilinskis, that powdered sugar was for bacon in her world, but he hoped she meant for the french toast. "Just so happens I do."

"Then can we make creeps?" 

"She means crepes." Stiles told him, standing up and shuffling over looking like every daydream of a happy life Derek had ever had, his hair ruinous and his cheek creased from the fabric of Derek's shirt. "Your dad used to love my mom's crepes, and you're in luck because I know the recipe." Stiles smiled at her, then reached up for a sleepy press of lips from Derek, on autopilot as he pulled things down from Derek's shelves. 

"I can cook for you--" 

Stiles smiled at Derek, swinging into his space, "I want the first time you cook for me to happen without the rest of my loony bin encroaching on the romance of the moment. I've cooked enough for everyone that it's not even novel anymore." 

"I-I don't remember you cooking for--" 

Stiles's smile widened, "You mean that mac and cheese casserole that you ate three-quarters of on Thanksgiving five years ago doesn't ring a bell?" 

"You--" 

"Yeah, buddy, everything I ever brought to one of our stakeouts was something I made myself. From the ratatouille to the fried chicken. Which only happened because my dad was out of town. Please never mention it to him that you were how I got rid of the leftovers of that particular bit of indulgence. I'm a grown man, but I still don't think I can handle seeing my father cry." 

Stiles started humming as he cooked, and it wasn't long before Etta started giggling, and Stiles started singing softly, making the mostly lovely colour spreading over Etta's features as she beamed. Before long, Stiles was dancing as he prepped, grinning wildly as Etta wiggled, giggling as, on a whim, Derek caught her up in his arms, dancing around with her. It seemed like Stiles lost his breath for a moment, the look in his eyes melting like the finest chocolate as he looked at them, happiness shining out of his features before he took a deep breath and kept going, grinning as he took Derek's hand and twirled both Derek and Etta up to him, pecking a kiss to Etta's nose and giving a soft, slow tantalizing tease of a kiss to Derek, ending with a grin that could kill. 

"I think Derek's adopted you, angel." Olivia laughed, her rich, slightly husky voice making a grin bloom over Etta's face. "You're his itty bitty pretty girl." 

"Oh no, my two grumpypusses crossing beams can't be good." Stiles teased, plucking her out of Derek's arms and setting her on the ground, letting her run to her father as he raised himself from the couch with a whine for his aching neck. He didn't let Derek go, though, leaning into him. 

"C'mon, now. I believe someone put the idea of crepes out there." Bishop mock-scolded, 

"That would be your daughter, but I'll humour you this one." 

Olivia smirked slightly, her eyes flashing to Derek, a small gesture summoning him into the next room while Bishop and Etta distracted Stiles back to his cooking. "I need to ask you a favour, Derek." Derek tensed slightly, but nodded immediately, the giggling of the little girl in the kitchen no small weight in the measure of how much he would do for her family. "What happened at the gym was not your fault, but it did scare me. Stiles is a target, and none of us are really safe. When it comes down to it, I need to know Etta's going to make it. I need to know that she'll be okay. Will you be the one to protect her when this goes down? Please? You're the strongest person I've ever met, and Etta won't want to run after us if she's safe with you. Please, Derek." 

"Kate Argent--" 

"Is not your burden to carry." Olivia insisted, "You know as well as I do that when it comes time, Etta will be safest with you, and Stiles will ride hell for leather if he so much as thinks you're in danger. Believe me when I tell you, you do not want to know what he's like when you're not safe." 

Derek looked at her, confusion settled familiarly in his brows, and she smiled. "I was there the night the Alphas took you. Peter and I were on our way into town when we caught Stiles setting a trap the Alphas couldn't even struggle out of. He caught an Alpha and got him to talk, to admit that prom night was going to end in a bath of blood for all the teenagers there." 

"He--he caught an Alpha?" 

"He did more than just catch him." Lydia told him, quietly joining Derek's side. "I still don't know what he did, he won't explain it to me other than to say that he believed it needed doing, but he did something...that made the Alpha break, just by looking into his eyes." 

"I've only ever seen him do it once myself." Olivia murmured quietly, "And the only thing I can describe it as was that it was like all the bad that had ever been done...all the hurt and the wrong...had just crashed into the perp's head." 

"To sum up in Stiles-speak, it was like a penance stare from the Ghostrider comics." Lydia let the words come out of her mouth and a full beat pass before the horror of that sentence dawned on her features. 

Derek looked up at Stiles, how he doted over Etta, and it was easy as breathing to agree, "I'll protect her with my life. Just...don't let Stiles be hurt." 

Olivia looked him in the eyes, nodding once, solemnly. "Thank you, but I can't promise Stiles won't do something stupid. It's Stiles." With a laughing wince, she shrugged, and Derek chuckled, nodding his understanding.

"Enough plotting, let's have our creeps, creeper!" Stiles called to Derek, setting plates on the table for them, making Etta laugh. 

Derek boxed Stiles in when he turned to get the icing sugar, putting his mouth just under Stiles's ear, "It's all I can ask for you to be careful." 

Stiles tsked gently, giving a little half-smirk, "That's no fun..." 

"You would never accuse me of being fun, Stiles." Derek reminded him, smiling as he kissed his neck gently and took the sugar from him. "How did you know what I was asking for, anyway?"

Stiles turned, eyes narrowed, "Because I know _you_." Stiles swiped powder-sugar covered fingers over his jaw, licking it off in a blindingly fast motion and grinning impishly up at him from under his lashes as he took the sugar back. 

"Stiles, can you tell me the story?" Etta asked, blinking placidly up at him as she sipped her juice. 

"After breakfast, princess, I'll tell you the story." Stiles agreed immediately, smiling as he dropped a hand onto Derek's thigh when Derek sat next to him. 

"What's the story about?" Derek asked gently, Lydia and Olivia's debate over the pros and cons of lemon juice with crepes going uninterrupted around them. 

"Us." Stiles answered simply, then smiled, "You'll see."


End file.
